One day, when I've had a child I will tell him/her stories of before they were even thought of. When I was young and wild. Young and depressed. I'll tell them all the things I did. I'll tell them how much I wished I was dead. I'll tell them how I struggled going on from day to day. I will tell them that I loved them even then. That the thought of having him/her was what kept me going. That I thought about having them and I felt an unconditional love for the child that hadn't even been conceived.
If I love them so much now, at least 8 years before they'll be conceived, how much will I love them when they're in my stomach? In my arms?